


like a record, baby

by theblueline



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bodyswap, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, a little cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblueline/pseuds/theblueline
Summary: Of all the ways James ever expected to wake up, in bed with Sidney Crosby was not one of them.
Relationships: Paul Martin/James Neal, Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157





	like a record, baby

**Author's Note:**

> [blows dust off pairing] anybody still read this thing?
> 
> i was organising my google drive and found this buried in the depths - i think it was written some time in 2013 (and is obviously set around that time). i read it over and actually i still kind of like it, so here it is. if for some reason you clicked on it without knowing anything about this pairing - watch [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QW6h-YFvgsM).

Of all the ways James ever expected to wake up, in bed with Sidney Crosby was not one of them.

He wakes up slowly, drifting into a vague sort of consciousness mostly against his will because his bed is really fucking comfortable. More comfortable than usual, actually, did he buy a new mattress recently? The sheets feel softer, too, when he stretches out his legs, which brush the end of the bed frame and huh, is his bed smaller, too? 

It takes him a few more minutes to actually realise it’s not his bed, and that there’s a warm, solid body against his back. James runs over the previous night’s events in his mind. He did go to a bar, with a few of the single guys on the team, but he could swear he went home at a reasonable hour, and alone. Did he drink more than he remembers? 

James presses back a little, still unwilling to open his eyes, because this bed is basically the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and judging from the size and what is definitely a half-hard dick pressing against his thigh, he picked up a guy. Or a guy picked him up.

He _must_ have drunk more than he remembers, then, because he’s usually careful about this shit. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t go home with a guy from a well-lit, popular bar where he’s hanging out with his teammates if he were anything close to sober.

James shifts around carefully, and the guy mumbles something that sounds like a complaint. James ends up basically forehead-to-forehead with him, which is his excuse for why it takes an embarrassingly long time for the close-up features to coalesce into those of his captain.

James yells and startles back so hard he falls out of bed. 

Sid sits up and blinks at him. “You okay?” he asks, stifling a yawn. 

He sounds concerned, but definitely not freaked out or confused or any of the things that Sid should _definitely_ be given that he apparently slept with James last night.

“Of course I’m not okay!” James yells, scrambling to his feet. He’s not naked, thankfully, but he still feels uncomfortably on display. 

“Geno, what’s wrong?” Sid says, and he’s wide awake now, climbing out of bed and yep, he’s naked. James covers his eyes with his hand. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Sid naked before but it turns out it’s very different when it’s in a bedroom instead of a locker room. 

“Please put some pants on,” he says.

Sid totally ignores him, grabbing his arms and pulling them away from his eyes.

“You’re freaking me out, G, what’s going on,” he says. He looks it, too, his eyes are wide and worried, and has Sid always been this much shorter than him? 

“I—” he says helplessly. “We— ”

“Is this about last night?” Sid asks earnestly. And then he slides his hands up James’s forearms and takes his hands. “I promise, you didn’t do anything I didn’t want, we talked about this, I like it when you— ”

James springs backwards again, whacks his knee on the corner of the chest of drawers and goes down in a heap. 

“Ok,” he says, sitting up, and Sidney stares at him in bemusement. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know why you keep calling me Geno, and I have no idea what we did last night, and maybe I should just...go.”

He tries to stand up, but he’s feeling completely unbalanced, and he trips over his own ankle and goes down again. This time Sid hauls him up and looks him dead in the eye. 

“I know it’s like 8 am, but are you drunk? You’re making no sense, and you’re talking funny, and— ”

James runs for it, ducking through the first door he sees and slamming and locking it behind himself. Unfortunately, it’s the bathroom, and shit, Sid has a nice fucking bathroom. The shower’s huge, with three shower heads and a bench, and the tiles are warm under his feet. There are two sinks set in granite countertops with metalwork-framed mirrors set above them.

Wait.

James takes a step closer and stares at his reflection.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he yells.

Sid bangs on the door.

“Let me in, come on,” he pleads. He sounds worried now, but he can fucking _deal_ , because James has much bigger issues here.

He steps closer to the mirror and pokes at his—Geno’s—face. He can definitely feel what he sees in the reflection, and no amount of tugging at his hair and mashing his face around seems to change anything. He looks down at his body, and now that he can pay attention, it’s definitely not his. His legs are not that long, or that slim, and everything is just...different. Oh god.

Sid sounds like he’s about to physically break down the door, so James yells out,

“Are you wearing pants?”

Silence. Then, “Yes, god, now let me in.”

James unlatches the door and opens it. Sid’s staring at him with wide, anxious eyes.

“I’m not Geno,” James says. “I don’t know how to get you to believe me, but I’m not. I’m James.” 

“What the hell,” Sid says. “Why are you - ”

“I’m not making this up, I swear,” James says desperately. 

Sid stares at him.

“Your English,” he says slowly. “You sound like Geno, but your English is perfect.”

“See!” James says, grasping on to the handhold. “I can say anything you want, perfectly. And I don’t know a word of Russian! Well, except the curse words G taught me, but everyone knows those.”

Sid looks more and more convinced, and then utterly freaked out.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he says, and if he has a meltdown, James is absolutely going to do the same and then they’re never going to solve this. 

Fortunately, at that point, Sid’s phone starts ringing. He starts, and stares down at it, and then frowns.

“Paulie?” he says when he answers. “What—” He listens intently for a moment, and then looks up at James. “Uh, yeah. I think that might actually be true.”

James can hear Paul’s raised voice on the other end of the line.

“I know it isn’t possible!” Sid all but shrieks. “Just—can you bring him over here? Okay, good. See you soon.” He hangs up, and takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” he says, blowing it out. “Breakfast.”

***

It turns out Sid’s actually a decent cook. He makes James eggs and whole wheat toast and his coffee’s pretty good, too. 

It’s also awkward as fuck.

“So,” James says, staring into his cup. Now that the issue of him being apparently stuck in Geno’s body is on hold, he’s had time to think about the other implications of waking up in bed with Sid. “You and G, huh?”

He regrets it as soon as he says it, because Sid flushes and then glares at him. 

“Obviously,” is all he says. James kind of wants to press for more but he’s not sure he’d survive the experience.

Except after a moment, Sid speaks again. 

“It’s not—we’re not just sleeping together,” he says. When James looks up at him, he’s looking straight at James. “It’s serious.” 

James isn’t sure what to do with that.

“How long?” he ventures.

“Two years,” Sid says, and James can’t help the way his eyebrows raise. 

“Shit,” he says. “How—”

“It’s not that hard to hide it,” Sid says with a casualness that James doesn’t quite believe. 

James doesn't know what to do with that—he kind of wants to congratulate Sid on managing a functional relationship for longer than James ever has. In the end, he doesn’t say anything, and the awkward silence returns. 

“I’m just gonna... ” he says eventually, when he can’t stand it any longer, and ducks out to the bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror doesn’t help calm him down, but he hides out for five minutes before reluctantly creeping back into the kitchen. 

Sid’s stacking his dishwasher, and it’s so weird to see how he tenses up after a second, clearly remembering that what he’s seeing isn’t who he wants it to be.

Fortunately, the doorbell goes, and Sid flies to answer it. James isn’t far behind and fuck, it’s bizarre to see Paul and _himself_ on the doorstep. The four of them stare at each other for a long moment. 

“Shit,” Paul says, eventually, and James lets out a nervous laugh. 

“Come on, get in,” Sid says, reaching out and grasping Geno’s wrist and pulling him inside. 

They only really have time to stare at each other in confused disbelief and argue about how this happened for five minutes before Sid shoves them all out the door to go to practice. He makes them all go in his car because, “I’m not letting either of you out of my sight until this is _fixed_.” His voice goes high and squeaky at the end, so James wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Practice is a shit show.

This doesn’t surprise James in the least. They collectively decide not to tell anyone anything because a) it sounds crazy and b) there’s a game day after tomorrow, and hopefully this thing will just go away like it came, and no one needs to be any the wiser.

Except James has to play centre with Geno on his wing and it’s all fucking terrible. Some of the motions come naturally to him, muscle memory he supposes, but every time he thinks about things, he starts fucking up. He’s never in the right place, and Dan’s looking more and more frustrated and confused until he finally calls a halt to practice ten minutes early. 

“Nealer, Geno, get it the fuck together by tomorrow,” he yells after them as they head back to the locker room. 

James starts towards his locker automatically, not realising until Sid pokes him sharply in the side and nods towards Geno’s locker. Sid’s got that constipated look on his face, pinched around the eyes, so rather than protesting the violence, James just moves towards Geno’s stall and starts stripping.

It’s fucking weird, being in someone else’s body. He tries to shower as perfunctorily as he can, because Geno’s his buddy, sure, but he never wanted to be this up close and personal with his ass. 

Afterwards, he’s contemplating heading home for a nap when Sid grabs his arm. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he says. “You’re coming home with me.” 

***

Once they’re all sitting in Sid’s living room, James and Geno on the couch and Paul standing behind it, Sid starts. 

“Okay,” he says, “I don’t know how this happened or who’s fault this is—” here, he looks at James, which is frankly rude, “—but it doesn’t matter. We just need to fix it.” 

“I don’t see how we can figure how to fix this if we don’t even know what this is,” Paul argues. James nods. Paul’s right, as usual. 

Geno says nothing, but he’s staring at James. 

“What?” James snaps. “Cut it out.”

Geno suddenly grins and it’s so weird to see that look on his own face that it makes James slightly dizzy. 

“Handsome,” Geno says, reaching out to pat James’s cheek, and James pushes his hand away. 

“Not helping, G,” Sid says impatiently. Geno rolls his eyes at James and turns back to Sid. 

“Paulie right,” he says. “Need to figure out what happened.”

“Fine,” Sid snaps. “What did you do last night?” he demands, turning to James.

“Why do you assume _I_ did something?” James asks, offended.

“Well I know exactly what Geno did last night,” Sid says, and then goes bright red. James can’t resist a smirk. “Shut up,” Sid adds. “So now I need to know what you did.”

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing!” he says again, when Sid just looks at him. “A couple of the guys went to a bar, we had a few drinks, and then I went home.”

“It’s true,” Paul interjects. “I was there too.”

“Just a few?” Sid presses.

Well. It was maybe a little more than a few. But Paul had been there, and James loves being in a crowded bar with Paul, loves having the excuse to squeeze in next to him at the bar. It inevitably goes to shit though, when some tastefully hot girl offers to buy Paul a drink and he smiles at her and James’s heart clenches and his brain chastises it for being such a stupid fucker as to fall in love with his best friend

Every time, he tells himself that even if, in some wild, unlikely twist of fate, Paul was interested in him, there was no way they could ever make it work. They play for the same professional sports team; between the vagaries of trades, the pressure of competition, and the complete lack of out professional athletes, there was just no chance.

It never helps and, well. It looks like Sid and Geno are making it work, so maybe James wasn’t quite right about that.

His hesitation gives him away, but even if it didn’t, Geno says,

“More than that. Head hurts like fuck this morning.”

James gives him a pat on the leg. “Sorry about that, man.” Sid sighs.

“Think really hard,” he says. “What do you remember?”

James scrubs his face.

“I swear, it was nothing. We had a few drinks, some food, some more drinks then we left.”

“You talked to that girl,” Paul volunteers. “And Borts threw up in the bathroom.”

“What girl?” Sid demands. 

James can barely remember himself, but he forces himself to think through the evening carefully.

He remembers standing at the bar with Paul, getting drinks. They’d been talking about nothing in particular, and James hadn’t even been paying attention, distracted by Paul’s proximity and how good he smelled. Then Paul had been distracted by a girl with an admittedly sick sleeve tattoo wanting to buy him a drink, so James had shrunk back a little, leaving them to it. 

Then— 

“Right,” he says slowly. “There was this girl. I thought she was your girlfriend’s friend,” he says to Paul, not totally able to keep the spite out of his voice. Paul rolls his eyes. 

“Not my girlfriend,” he says. “Keep going.”

“She looked at Paul and his chick and rolled her eyes,” James says, squinting. He’d been a few too many in at this point. He’d been trying to work up the courage to make a move, before Tattoo had wrecked his plan. “She said something about being a third wheel, then… I think there were shots?”

“I really can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I,” Paul says. To James’s intense annoyance, he looks amused.

“Then what?” Sid demands, ignoring Paul.

“That’s it!” James says. “We did some shots and maybe we danced, I don’t know. Then I went home. That’s all.”

“With her?” Sid asks, as if it’s any of his fucking business.

“No, not that it’s any of your fucking business,” James says. “What are you thinking anyway? You think she was a witch? Think she cursed me?” he says it in a voice dripping with sarcasm, but Sid is silent, and Geno looks thoughtful.

“What the fuck,” James says. “What the fuck.”

“Well,” Sid says, and he shrugs. “You have a better idea?”

“Witches aren’t real,” James says, slowly like he’s talking to a child. “Magic is not a thing. Guys. What the fuck.”

Even Paul looks considering now, Jesus.

“Sure,” he says, “but you’re also in Geno’s body right now, so.”

James has to concede that point.

“It’s still a fucking stretch, that some random chick last night did this to me. Like. Maybe I just ate some bad wings. That seems less fucking insane than your theory.” 

“With nothing else to go on,” Sid says, “there’s not much we can do.” He looks over at Paul.

“Can you do some research?” Paul looks deeply skeptical but nods. “You can use my computer,” Sid adds. “In the kitchen.” Paul leaves. 

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?” Sid asks, softer for some reason.

“Like what?” James says, staring at him. Sid and Geno exchange a glance. 

“Anything to do with Paul?” 

“Anything to do with Paul, what?” James asks again, baffled. 

Geno sighs. 

“Nealsy,” he says. “I’ve heard of something like this before.”

“A fucking _bodyswap_?” James asks incredulously. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Am saying now,” Geno says. “Shut up. Is happen in KHL, long before I play. Two players swap bodies. Guy who it happen to say…” he trails off. “Said he met a girl in a bar, and she did for him, but not a curse. More like a favour.”

James is still digesting the fact that apparently the Superleague is just as full of weird and mysterious bullshit as he’s always been led to believe, but this is something else. 

“A _favour_?” 

“Did you ask her for anything?” Sid asks. And he’s sitting on the coffee table opposite James now, and he looks concerned. James abruptly feels like he’s talking to his parents.

“No?” he says, although he’s less sure now. “And what did you mean about Paul?”

Sid looks out of the room after Paul, and then back at James, and his eyes are so fucking knowing that James instantly wants to curl up into a ball and die.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he says. He puts in face in his hands so he doesn’t have to look at them. “Please don’t tell me I’m that obvious.”

“Well,” says Sid, but doesn’t follow it with anything. 

“Exactly that obvious,” Geno says cheerfully, and he slaps James on the back. “But lucky for you, I think I know how to break spell.”

***

James shuffles his feet. 

This is not how he thought he’d ever have to make this confession. Not in Sid’s backyard, not stone cold sober. Not in Geno’s fucking body. 

“James,” Paul says. “It’s fine, just spit it out. I’m pretty hard to shock.”

James snorts. 

“Okay, here goes,” he says, more for himself than for Paul. He looks up, catching Paul’s eye. “So. The thing is. The thing is. Okay, the thing is—”

“For god’s sake, James—” 

“I’m in love with you,” James blurts out. It’s the worst way to do it, but as soon as the words are out, he feels strangely relieved. 

Paul blinks. And then he blinks again. And then, the fucker, he starts laughing. 

James stares at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Paul gasps out, “no really, I’m sorry.” He reaches out and grabs James’s forearm, like he thinks James is going to run away (James was strongly considering it). “It’s just,” he shakes his head. “Of all the times I thought about you saying that to me, I never thought it would be, well. Geno saying it to me,” he laughs again, but it’s wry now. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Jesus, James, how wilfully blind do you have to be to not know how I feel about you?”

“I—what?”

James has had a very long, very confusing day, and this might be the thing that breaks him. 

Paul’s hand slides down his arm and grasps his hand. “I wish I could properly look you in the face for this, but I guess this will have to do. I love you,” he says directly, and his mouth twists in a smile. “It’s fucking stupid, because you’re an idiot. A hot, stupidly talented idiot who takes too many penalties and can’t even make scrambled eggs, but there it is.”

James gapes at him. 

"You _what_?” he demands. He makes a mental note to be offended about the _idiot_ later.

“Well don’t make me say it again,” Paul says, but his eyes are twinkling. 

“Fuck off, why didn’t you say something before?” James says. “How long has this been going on? Wait, doesn’t matter, I don’t care,” he adds, and then lunges for Paul. 

It doesn’t go according to plan—rather than swooning into his arms, Paul looks alarmed and moves back, so James careens into his shoulder, and then they bump heads when James tries to turn back towards him. 

“What the fuck,” he says, massaging his forehead. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

“James,” Paul says in that patient tone he usually adopts when he’s explaining something to small children. “I love you, really, I do. And partly because of that fact, I don’t want to kiss Evgeni Malkin.”

“Oh.” James had, astonishingly, forgotten that part. 

“I don’t think there’s a way around that,” he says, apologetically. “Geno thinks that’s what will fix this.” He gestures to his body.

“What will?” Paul asks, looking confused.

“Uh,” James starts and then somehow, blushes. “True love’s kiss.”

Paul stares at him, and James is worried he’s going to start laughing again. Except he just sighs.

“It fucking would be, wouldn’t it,” he says, and then gestures towards James. “Fine. Come here, you idiot.”

James makes another mental note, but it’s quickly swept away by the fact that Paul’s putting his hands on James’s—Geno’s—face and pulling it down towards his own. James notices, just before their lips touch, that his eyes are closed.

For a first kiss, it’s a bit of a strange one. James’s body doesn’t feel like his own, and he’s distracted enough by that fact that he almost doesn’t notice when Paul slips his tongue into his mouth. Then he realises he’s somehow missing his own first kiss with Paul, shoves all other thoughts out of his head, and fully commits.

It’s no surprise to him that Paul is a good kisser—he’s seen him with enough girls to have some view on his technique—but experiencing it first hand is something else. He’s gentle in how he cradles James’s head and a little forceful in how he moves James how he wants him, tilting his head to the perfect angle to open their mouths against each other. 

James can admit, he goes kind of Disney princess over it, stomach fluttering, knees weak, the whole bit. He leans fully into Paul and surrenders to the sensation, loving the way Paul’s hands slide down to cinch around his waist, not least because he’s genuinely afraid he might fall over without the support.

After what feels like an eternity, he blinks his eyes open slowly and sees that Paul is _beaming_ at him.

“You’re back,” he says, pushing a hand into James’s hair. James looks down and yep, that’s his body alright. Thank Christ.

If James had had any doubts left, despite Paul’s words and the fact that kissing him had literally broken a witch’s spell, the way Paul is looking at him right now would banish them entirely. 

“Fuck,” James says, in awe. “You _do_ love me.”

Paul rolls his eyes. 

“Unfortunately for me,” he says, and tugs James back towards him for their second first kiss.


End file.
